Date: Sun, 7 Dec 2008 18:25:32 -0800 (PST)
From: ds elliot
Subject: Inmate #14362256
Inmate # 1432566
by ds elliot
At 24 years old I was transferred to a new city by my employer. This was a
promotion -- or so they told me. I was a little skeptical since the city
was smaller and further away from the corporate offices of the company I
worked for. Never the less I accepted this "promotion" with the hopes of
proving myself to my superiors and eventually getting back to the big city
and hopefully into a position at the corporate office.
Moving was easier than I first anticipated. The company paid for my home
to be packed up, moved, and then unpacked in my new home. They even helped
with a relocation service that showed me homes for sale in this new town.
I was pleasantly surprised that by selling my condo in the city I could
easily afford a decent three bedroom, two bath home with living room,
dining room, family room, two car garage, and a very nice fenced yard.
Suddenly moving from the city didn't seem so bad. The move did come with a
decent pay increase so I could easily afford the needed furniture to fill
my home. I settled into work easily, but found it much more difficult to
settle into the town. My social life sucked. I didn't even know where to
go to meet people... well I knew a few places, but I'd never been a big
drinker so hanging out in the bars and clubs weren't an attractive option.
Being primarily in the closet at least at work didn't provide me much of an
opportunity there either so I began to consider where I could go to meet
people.
One of the women at work invited me to attend her church. She raved about
the adult singles group there as well as the men's group. I considered the
offer and pretty much dismissed it at first, but when nothing better came
along I decided to give it a try. The Sunday I attended the service was
pleasant and easy to take. There was a social gathering after the service
which I attended with the woman from work. I met several very nice people
and honestly felt a connection with some of them. From that first meeting
I became a regular member and attendee. I also joined the men's group
which met weekly one evening during the week. I shied away from the
singles group which had their meetings Saturday evenings and then typically
had dinner together. I wasn't interested in meeting or hooking up with any
of the single females at the church -- or anywhere else for that matter. I
honestly didn't expect to hook up with any of the men either, but I felt
safe there and certain that friendships would form.
Life was going along at a good clip. Work was fine and even brought me
some recognition from the corporate office as a result of two studies I'd
done. I started to feel like this wasn't a dead end move after all.
Socially things were improving too. I had some good friendships building
with a few of the men at work. We often did some social things too --
playing basketball, working out together at a local gym, jogging,
occasionally golf, and attending some of the local sporting events. A few
times I would be invited to dinner, but I found after the first time that
these invitations were simply an attempt to try to match me up with some
female friend or relative. I was always social and pleasant but really
didn't leave room for more than the dinner planned. My excuse was that
there just wasn't time at this point in my life for a serious commitment.
So it was at one of these weekly men's meetings where the pastor of the
church brought around some names and addresses on cards for each of us.
When I looked at the address of the one he handed to me I quickly realized
this was a prison inmate's name and address. I was surprised at first
until he explained that he was hopeful that each of us would take the time
to correspond with the inmate in the hope of bringing God into their lives.
When he asked the group the next week if each of us had written to our
inmate, I was one of two who had to explain that it was a busy week and
just didn't have time. We were mildly chastised for our lack of dedication
to the word of God and the need for God in these men's lives. I decided
that I would make the time before the week was out to at least make the
effort to write to my inmate.
Writing to Jason Bennett #1432566 was far more difficult that I expected it
to be. I wrote business letters and reports on a regular basis, but I was
trying to write something personal to someone I didn't know anything about
-- someone who was in prison for God only knows what crime. After about a
dozen false starts, I decided that a letter devoid of God seemed like the
best choice. I wasn't there to preach to the guy or save his soul. I was
asked to write to him so I decided to tell him a bit about myself but
nothing too specific or detailed -- mostly what I did for a living, some of
my interests and activities, and only a brief mention of where I got his
name. The rest of the letter was spent asking about him. Before I could
think about it any more, I addressed the envelope and put it out for the
postal person.
I was very surprised the next week when I had a letter from a strange
address with the typical bills and junk mail. I almost discarded it as
junk mail when I remembered Jason -- the inmate. I opened it to find a
four page hand written letter along with a picture. I put the letter on
the counter because I was hungry and needed to start dinner. When I had
finished dinner I settled in my favorite chair with some coffee to read
what Jason wrote.
Jason was just 20 years old. He had been in prison for about 1.5 years and
hoped to be paroled in another 1.5 years. He was originally sentenced to 5
years for participation in an armed robbery. His part of the robbery was
to distract the clerk in the store while the other two who were armed
robbed the place. He knew it was wrong at the time but had fallen in with
a bad group of friends who didn't seem to care too much about anything. He
went on to tell me that he was from Los Angeles. He didn't know his mother
or father. He was raised by his maternal grandmother who was great when he
was a kid, but seemed to have too many of her own problems when he was a
teenager and didn't care much about what he did or whom he hung out with.
He had finished high school with decent grades and was now attending junior
college through the prison. He also had a job in the prison doing general
maintenance and painting. It didn't pay him much but he could afford the
supplies he needed to purchase for his classes. He was studying art and
specifically enjoyed painting. He eventually wanted to get into
photography but didn't have the means to purchase a good camera and film
needed to pursue that interest. He told me that he spent any free time he
had lifting weights to keep himself in shape. He was 6 feet tall and
weighed 170 pounds. He wanted to build a bit more muscle for definition
but was not trying to be a body builder. He played basketball with some of
the other inmates when time allowed and tried to watch the world news if it
was playing in the common room. Aside from that he was very grateful to
get the letter from me and hoped that we could continue to write since he
didn't get mail from anyone else and had had no visitors since he'd been
locked up.
I was impressed with his penmanship. He wrote very well with no misspelled
words. He did miss some punctuation,but that was common from many business
letters and reports I had read. He seemed to be sincere and interested and
decent -- a guy looking to use his time to better himself. He didn't talk
much about the future. I didn't think prison really afforded one the
opportunity to think about the future but rather forced one to focus on
just day to day survival. He didn't mention any friends in prison or close
relationships outside of prison, but since he hadn't received any mail
aside from my letter I decided that he was basically alone in the world.
Alone is a difficult place to be, but far better than hanging out with the
wrong crowd -- and I was certain he could find several wrong crowds in
prison among the other inmates.
The next evening I decided to write back. The first letter was just a
typed page, but the second letter was four typed pages. I didn't go into
the whole church and God thing, but did try to be encouraging and
supportive. I asked a lot about his painting. I also asked some questions
about the future -- where he was going when this phase was over -- what his
plans were when he was released... things for which he likely didn't have
answers but would at least start him concentrating on a brighter future for
himself.
Our letters continued on at a pace of two or three each month. His were
always positive and interesting. He discussed world events. He talked
some about politics and religion. He also talked about where he hoped to
be based on some of his teachers assessment of his potential. He seemed to
be a very open and honest young man who really was searching for a better
life. He mentioned without any details of some difficulties he had when he
first arrived at prison, but that was a topic he didn't want to discuss so
I didn't press the issue. For me I told him more personal things about
myself including the fact that I was a gay man. He asked if I had a
partner or was dating someone and seemed to be surprised when he heard that
I was single and content. For his part he never mentioned a girl or being
straight or gay, but from the general tone of his discussions about life I
figured that he was hoping to eventually find a woman. More than anything
Jason seemed to be searching for the typical life... a decent job, a wife,
kids, and a house with a fenced yard... oh and a dog. What he seemed to
be searching for was all of the things he never had growing up. He did
want a better life and was willing to work hard to get it.
I was surprised after the forth month of letter writing when he included
official forms for me to complete so that I could visit him. He had never
mentioned that before but in this letter asked if I would fill out the
forms and return them to the prison office so that I could perhaps come to
visit. At first I was not in the least interested in visiting. I had
never been to a prison... hell, I hadn't even really seen a prison in
person. I was certain that I would never go to visit him, but for some
reason I filled out the forms and sent them to the address he'd indicated
in the letter.
The next week I got detailed information from the prison about visiting an
inmate. I was shocked to see the official prison seal on the envelope and a
little freaked out wondering what the mail person must think. After
telling myself that it was not a big deal I looked over what I would have
to do and not do if I ever decided to visit -- and that was still not a
likely option in my mind.
The following week I got another letter from Jason who seemed very happy
that I would be allowed to visit him if I ever was in the area and decided
I would like to meet him in person. He seemed to be very anxious to meet
me face to face. I had sent him a picture a few months before, but he was
anxious to see me and talk in person. He mentioned his birthday was coming
in less than six weeks. He didn't come right out and ask me to visit him,
but I could tell that is what he was hoping would happen. At first I put
it all out of my head and hoped to forget about it, but for some reason I
couldn't seem to do that. I thought about how I would feel and after
battling with all of that for nearly a month decided that I would go to the
prison to visit Jason for his birthday.
Once the decision was made I blocked two days mid week at work so I could
drive down and then have an extra day to relax after the meeting. I was
sure it would be emotional for me since I had never been in a prison
setting before. I was completely unprepared for being in a place with high
walls and security and men confined for various crimes. I guess I really
didn't know what to expect or what I would find when I arrived, but I
expected to leave changed in many ways. Let's face it... my life was very
secure and typical. I had never been in any trouble... never been stopped
by a cop. This was all new and not as exciting as it was terrifying.
The day of the visit arrived. I was nervous and a little scared too but
for no rational reason. I packed a few things for a stay over night since
my plan was to visit with Jason and then see what was in the town where he
was incarcerated. By the time I arrived at the prison there was a small
line of other visitors. I joined the line and was searched and then
allowed to enter this large room with tables and chairs. I sat there
waiting for nearly 30 minutes before Jason arrived at the table. As he
approached I stood and put out my hand to shake... and he shook my hand.
We were able to talk for about two hours. I was very surprised at how
quickly the time went. It seemed like we had just started talking when an
alarm sounded announcing the end of the visitation. As we both stood Jason
reached out to shake my hand and thank me for coming. I pulled him a bit
closer to give him a hug. When I did his arms wrapped about me and pulled
us close. I could feel the shudders of tears as we hugged. When we pulled
apart his eyes were wet and a little red, but he quickly straightened up
and put on the more stern look that he entered the room with.
As I was leaving the visitation room one of the guards stopped me. At
first I was afraid I was in some sort of trouble, but that was not the
case. The guard told me that I was the first person to visit or write to
Jason. He further told me that Jason had told him all about me. He also
went on to say that in his mind Jason didn't belong in prison, but
circumstances caused him to be in the wrong place at the wrong time with
some rather bad people. He also said that he had noticed such a change in
Jason since I had been writing to him. It seems that prior to my first
letter Jason had been going through the motions rather than putting his
heart into anything. He also indicated that if I had time I should talk
with one of his instructors at the local community college. He gave me the
name and contact number for the woman who was his art teacher. I thanked
him for his concern and for watching out for Jason. He told me then that
if I would be around he would arrange for another visit the next day. I
told him that my plan was to stay in the town over night and then drive
home tomorrow. Since I didn't have any specific time for leaving or
anything pressing back home, I decided to stay a bit later than I had
planned to see his instructor at the community college and to visit him
again. When I asked the guard if he would tell this to Jason, he said that
it would be better to surprise him. The guard went on to say that Jason
had not stopped talking about his upcoming visit from me since he found out
about it. He told me that he was sure Jason hadn't slept in over a week.
When I found a motel for the night I called the teacher at the community
college and made an appointment for the next morning. After that was
settled I looked around the town a bit and then visited a restaurant the
guard had recommended. While I was eating the guard came in. I was very
surprised when he stopped by the table to talk. I invited him to join me
for dinner which he did. He told me more about Jason that I knew. It
seems that his time in prison had been difficult from the start as a result
of poor screening and placement. The first prison he was assigned to was
one that was less than appropriate for someone 18 years old. Jason had
been raped by four other inmates several nights in a row during his first
week. It was only discovered when he failed to exit his cell one morning.
What the day guards found was a boy unconscious and bleeding. He was taken
to the medical wing and then to a local hospital where he spent the next
week recovering before he was moved back to the prison and then quickly
transferred to another facility where he now lived. It seems that those
four prisoners and two night guards where part of the problem. The guards
no longer worked for the system and the four inmates were now facing more
time for their attacks. I had tears in my eyes and couldn't finish dinner.
I was sick to my stomach. The guard assured me that Jason didn't have any
physical problems as a result of the rapes and was healthy now, but still
my heart when out to him. I suppose on some level I knew rape was likely
in prison, but Jason was the first victim I'd ever known. The strength it
must take to live through that and move beyond it has to be incredible.
The guard told me that Jason had been in a therapy program to help him deal
with the attacks and to move beyond them. He was very proud of his
progress and credited me for helping him to see a future that was brighter
than any he had envisioned before. I didn't know what to say. I thanked
him for telling me and helping me to know more about him. I guess at this
point I admired Jason that much more. I couldn't even begin to imagine
being forced into sex with someone especially when that encounter was the
result of men forcing themselves on you. He was only a boy when it
happened to him. In my mind that had to screw you up nearly beyond repair.
The guard asked me not to mention what he told me to Jason but to allow him
to tell me when he felt it was time. I agreed and thanked him for the
information.
I went back to the motel and cried for the ugliness and brutality that
exists in the world. How could anyone treat another in such a manner? I
was dumbfounded. Never in my wildest dreams could I see that happening to
anyone -- yet it happened daily in the world. I considered the women I new
and what their lives would be like had that happened to them. I also
thought about me... what my life would be like had that happened to me. I
was certain I would not be able to be strong or see a future for myself.
When the guard brought Jason into the visiting room the next day he was all
smiles. We hugged and then talked non stop. Jason was sure I'd bribed the
guards to let him have a second visit the very next day. I told him about
the guard I spoke with the day before who arranged it for him. He was
extremely excited almost to the point of not being able to sit still. I
then told him that I had visited his instructor from the college and seen
his work. I told him how much I liked what he was doing. That two hours
flew by as quickly as the first two. Before it was over Jason told me that
I could take his painting home with me if I wanted to since they were just
sitting in his teachers office. I told him that I would try to meet with
her again and take some providing that was ok with him. He assured me that
he really wanted me to have them. When the time was up, we hugged again.
Jason was emotional again, but surprisingly so was I. When we parted that
hug we both had wet and red eyes. We laughed about it and promised to keep
in contact.
I stopped by the college on my way out of town. The instructor was in her
room and had received word from the guard that I was coming to pick up
Jason's paintings. At first I was only planning on taking two at most, but
ended up leaving with all twelve that were stored there.
The drive home was filled with thoughts of Jason. I don't know that it was
any logical sequence or what the point of those thoughts were beyond
walking a mile in his shoes. By the time I reached home I decided that he
was likely stronger than I could ever hope to be. In the years he had
lived, he had already experienced more than I ever hoped to especially from
a negative point of view. What so amazed me is how strong and positive and
hopeful he was despite where he was. I honestly admired his ability to see
a brighter future based on his experiences so far.
I got a letter from Jason a few days later thanking me for the visits. He
was also happy that his art was in a safe place. He hoped I was enjoying
it. I was actually. I had taken the three I like the most to have framed.
They would be ready early next week. The others were in the closet. My
plan was to have those framed too when time and money allowed. I was sure
that Jason would like that when he was released. If nothing else he could
probably sell them to earn some money to start his new life.
Time goes on. Things change. I was transferred again after about six
months from when I visited Jason. I was now in a different state and about
five miles from the prison. I had visited Jason one more time before I
moved. We had also added talking on the phone on special occasions. The
calls from the prison were expensive but when something of importance
needed to be shared that was the fastest way. Jason more than me was
conscious of the cost of those calls. He always talked fast and tried to
end each call after only a few minutes. I was the one who allowed them to
drag on from time to time. We still did write -- now about weekly. I
occasionally too talked with the guard who seemed to be watching out for
Jason. The guard told me first when Jason was up for his first parole
hearing. The guard told me that it was hard to know which way the panel
would vote, but he was hopeful that Jason would get paroled after his first
hearing. I was hopeful too!
So the call that Jason made to me telling me that he was going to be up for
parole was not a surprise. The fact that he asked if he could stay with me
if he did get parole was a huge surprise. I guess I expected him to move
back to the Los Angeles area or go somewhere else. I never imagined that
he would want to stay with me if he got out. I guess my speechless
response as well as some hemming and hawing on my part told him that I
wasn't up for that option. In truth I wasn't at all prepared for that
question. I had a lot to think about. Jason's parole hearing was still 8
days away. I thought about nothing else but Jason for those next three
days. I arranged to take some time off work to visit him. I called the
guard to make certain that I could see him when I arrived there. I did get
put on the list for Jason.
I was talking with myself on the whole drive to see Jason. I was still
debating the pros and cons of having an ex-con living with me. Jason was
young. I guess I wasn't all that much older, but at 27 I had my life
figured out or at least on some track. That track didn't include convicts
living with me. Then I told myself about our friendship and about Jason.
Immediately I felt guilty for not continuing to be supportive when he had
been honest and working for this day... his release. Was it fair of me to
send him to a place where he was doomed to failure? Of course it was not.
I had called the guard who was his protector to talk about it. He is the
one who convinced me that Jason was worth the risk. I was on my way to
tell him to come stay with me even though I was not totally convinced that
this was the best idea. What door was I opening? What was I getting
myself into? What are the down sides to this? And I suppose most
important... will this really help Jason? I decided that it would and
hoped that he wouldn't take my initial hesitation as rejection.
I got to the prison to see Jason. He didn't look so happy when he entered
the visitation room. I hugged him when he came to the table, but his hug
was less than enthusiastic. He sat. I told him that his request caught me
off guard. We had talked about what he would do when released. Up until
he asked to stay with me, his plan has always been to return to Los Angeles
or perhaps move somewhere else. I told him that I was surprised that he
would want to come live with me... but if he was still interested in that
option then he was welcome.
His face lit up! He was the Jason I had known over the last eighteen
months. He talked excitedly about what the future would look like and what
it would hold. He told me that he would be happy to sleep on the floor
until he could get a job and place of his own. I told him there was a
bedroom for him that he was welcome to have if he did get paroled. Our two
hour visit flew by as they always did. We hugged and I wished him good
luck. His hearing was three days away.
When I got home that evening there was a message on my answering machine.
The guard had left me a message saying that Jason had been trying to call
me. I knew that I couldn't call Jason since no incoming calls were
allowed. I kept the phone close as I got dinner ready. About the time
dinner was ready the phone rang. It was Jason. He was excited beyond
belief. He did get his parole and would be released on Thursday. When I
went to work the next day I changed my schedule to give myself a long
weekend. I left early Thursday morning to head for the prison. I didn't
really think about anything more than Jason getting out.
The process was slow at best. Despite the fact that they knew he was being
released and he also knew, nothing seemed to be ready or happening quickly.
I could see him in another room separated by a wall with a glass window. I
knew he was signing papers and being searched and then his things searched,
but it was taking forever. Finally they allowed him into the room where I
had been waiting. The first thing we did was hug. Jason was crying real
tears... but tears of happiness. He couldn't seem to stop thanking me for
picking him up and letting him come to live with me. He was an emotional
wreck to say the least. When the guard who had befriended both of us came
into the room, Jason turned to him and hugged him too telling him how much
he would miss him. I laughed as did the guard... but Jason was sincere
and told him that the only thing that make living in prison tolerable was
the fact that he cared about him. My heart went out for the guard who
likely didn't hear compliments even annually especially from inmates.
Jason had two plastic bags... trash bags with more paintings in them.
There was another bag with some personal items too. He was wearing gray
sweats and beat up tennis shoes. Those were all the clothes he had -- just
what the prison gave him to wear when he left since what he had when he
arrived was way too small for him now.
We each carried bags to the car. We put everything into the trunk. I was
surprised that Jason commented about the car. I drove a BMW. I guess we
never really talked about it. Since it was a nice sunny day, I lowered the
tops as we drove away from the prison. Jason was all smiles and chattered
away in his happiness. For me I kept wondering what would come next.
Would he like where we were headed? Would he be happy? Would he find
work? Would he find his future? Did he even know what is future really
was? Did he have direction? So questions... I guess I always have a lot
of them. It is part of me to question everything.
As I relate this to you I can already see the questions you're asking
yourselves. I didn't befriend Jason to take advantage of him. At no point
did I think of Jason as a sexual being as far as our relationship is
concerned. I am not a rapist and never thought of having sex with him.
Certainly he was a handsome young man. At 23 he was four years younger
than me. He, however, had not had much experience before he was locked up.
He had to search to find himself... what he liked and didn't like. From
all that he told me he was a straight man. I had no plans to convince him
otherwise. I was also not going to ever tell him that sex was the price of
a place to stay. This might be hard to believe, but before I'm a sexual
creature, I'm a caring man. Jason had become more of a friend and maybe
even little brother to me. Yes I did love him, but that love was not a
sexual love or lust. I didn't ever think of him as a conquest or someone
to have sex with under any circumstance. Jason was a young man who found
me or I found him. What I thought was a boring task in the beginning
turned into more. I honestly liked the guy. I truly wanted to help him.
I started my life with way more than he had. I believed in giving back.
This was my chance. Did I know if Jason was sincere? No I didn't, but I
was willing to take him at his word. You should too.
.............................
so this seems like a reasonable place to rest... I hope you've enjoyed
this part of the story and will continue on with the next installment...
as always your thoughts and constructive criticism are always
appreciated...
you can reach me at: dselliot28@yahoo.com
thanks for reading my work!